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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26974042">Spiced Vanilla</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkishbee/pseuds/pinkishbee'>pinkishbee</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Borderlands (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abandonment Issues, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, At least he has Rhys, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flashbacks, Hallucinating, He's real messed up, Hurt/Comfort, Jack Needs a Hug, M/M, Oneshot, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Substance Abuse, Trauma, rhack - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 21:15:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,094</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26974042</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkishbee/pseuds/pinkishbee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack falls back into old habits and finds himself stuck in the past.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Handsome Jack/Rhys (Borderlands)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Spiced Vanilla</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Jack found himself on the bathroom floor, throwing up practically everything he had eaten during the day. It was hard to worry about how he got there, as he was more concerned with how badly everything hurt. The pounding of his head, his scalded throat, and his tied up stomach was the only thing keeping him awake. His eyelids were heavy and his eyes burned like he had cried all day, but he couldn’t remember crying. He couldn’t remember anything. Nothing existed beyond where he was. Except Angel. Where was she? Not around, he hoped. She couldn’t see him like this.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The bathroom door was open, just barely, and light from the hallway creeped into the room. He had just enough light to tell where he was, which was the guest bedroom’s bathroom. That meant Angel was just at the end of the hall, if not in his bedroom. Sometimes she slept in there. He hoped she was in there.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He had just gotten his bearings on where he was, and then they escaped him all over again. His surroundings turned back into the foggy purgatory between the present and the past, the place he had been stuck in for the past several hours. This time, the past was a fake looking living room, and he was sat across from a cluttered desk. Therapy. He hadn’t been to therapy in years, and he had no desire to be back. He didn’t want to talk about it-- about </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but the faceless person at the desk insisted. “It will help you heal.” That’s all they said. The bright orange of prescription bottles on the table in front of him caught his attention. He remembered lying about his substance abuse for pills.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The shock of a hard chill running down his spine reminded him of his previous whereabouts. The tiles felt like ice, and he had a brief flash of Angel and </span>
  <em>
    <span>her </span>
  </em>
  <span>ice skating together. It was gone as fast as it came, but he didn’t want it gone. He wanted to stay, and not just long enough to say goodbye. He wanted to </span>
  <em>
    <span>stay</span>
  </em>
  <span> there, or any frozen time in space with her and Angel. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><span>“Come back.” Was he being punished for being selfish? Was he being selfish now? All he wanted was to be with her forever. Why was that wrong? Why was he so selfish?</span> <span>“Come back, come back, </span><em><span>please</span></em><span> come back. I want to go back. I want…” His words trailed off into sobs. They ripped through his throat and echoed all around him, reminding him infinitely of his despair. His surroundings changed so many times, but it all flew past. He was crying too hard to take anything in, and he cried until he couldn’t anymore. </span></p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Something warm pulled him out of his depressive stupor. He leaned right into the embrace, instantly relieved from the damp chill on his body. There was a distinct scent, one that he recognized and one that left him more disappointed than he should’ve been. It didn’t smell like the sweet Velvet Sugar that she used to wear. It was more mellow, like autumn, with a more milky sweetness as opposed to her fruity scent. There was the subtlest heat of cinnamon, and it seemed to give Jack just enough energy to hug Rhys back. He didn’t want Rhys to see him like this as much as he didn’t want Angel to, but he couldn’t bring himself to worry. He was just happy to be held, happy to not be alone anymore. Rhys’s embrace felt so safe. This must’ve been how Angel felt when Rhys saved her, and now he was saving him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It only took that one memory of Rhys saving Angel to disturb Jack again. She was so small in his arms, protected entirely by his body. But the first thing he saw, before he knew if she was truly okay, was blood. Both of them were covered in it, especially Angel. He looked down, and Rhys’s sleeve was soaked with blood. He pulled back enough to see more of him, and what he saw of him was as bloodied as his sleeve. It made him feel sick. “Rhys,” he choked out. “You’re bleeding. You’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>dying.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Rhys looked down, then back at Jack. “What are you talking about? I’m fine.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Was it fake? It looked so real, how could it be? “No, you’re dying,” he mumbled. “You’re--” his throat hitched, and he broke down all over again. “Don’t die on me, Rhys, don’t die on me! Don’t leave me! You’re all we have left! You can’t die!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Rhys pulled him back into that safe place against his chest. “Shhh, I’m okay. Everything’s okay.” His words were so sincere, so sobering. He could genuinely believe him. He could </span>
  <em>
    <span>trust</span>
  </em>
  <span> Rhys, and that both terrified and soothed him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s get you into bed,” he said, trying to coax Jack to stand. He did, eventually, and leaned heavily into Rhys as he was led to his bedroom. He tried to lay Jack down gently, but Jack let himself fall onto his bed. It was soft and comforting, not unlike Rhys’s words. His actions seemed so gentle, too. The way he pulled the blankets over him, pulling away and running his hand through his hair. It looked lusciously soft and thick without gel in it. He had bangs that liked to swoop over his eyes, which he tried to keep tucked behind his ears. Jack never realized how long his hair really was.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Rhys walked to the door, so Jack used the last of his energy to hum at him. It got his attention, and all Jack could do now was stare at him with pleading eyes. He didn’t want him to go. “I’ll be right back,” Rhys said, his voice so tender. “I won’t leave you.” Then he disappeared into the hall. Just moments later, he returned with an ice pack and a water bottle. He touched Jack like a kitten, carefully brushing his tangled hair away to lay the ice pack on his forehead. It immediately calmed Jack’s headache, prompting him to close his tired eyes. The red of his eyelids went black, and he believed he had fallen asleep that fast. But he was brought back to his senses, sobering up just a bit more when he felt Rhys climb into bed behind him. His arm wrapped around Jack’s chest and held on like he really wanted to be there. Even if he couldn’t see, he knew the blood on Rhys was gone.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This was completely self indulgent. It's an AU my friend and I thought up one day, and I was originally going to write something soft for it, but turns out I'm only capable of angst. Tragic! I'll still probably write other scenes of this AU. No promises.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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